slipped from his chair and went to the outer door. He glanced out into the hall, closed the door, and with a nod returned to his chair.
"Well?" Jachin Fell regarded him with intent, searching eyes. "Have you any light to throw on the occasion?"
Chacherre's usual air of cool impudence was never in evidence when he talked with Mr. Fell.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "Hammond worked on the car until about nine o'clock, then beat it to bed, I guess. I quit the job at ten, and his light had been out some time. Well, master, this is a queer affair! There's no doubt that Gramont pulled it, eh?"
"You think so?" asked Fell.
Chacherre made a gesture of assent. "Quand bois tombé, cabri monté—when the tree falls, the kid can climb it! Any fool can see that Gramont was the man. Don't you think so yourself, master?"
Jachin Fell nodded.
"Yes. But we've no evidence—everything lies against young Maillard. Early in the morning Gramont goes to Paradis to examine that land of Miss Ledanois' along the bayou. He'll probably say nothing of this murder to Hammond, and the chauffeur may not find
